


The Bet

by Johnlock2708, Strange_johnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28291383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlock2708/pseuds/Johnlock2708, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strange_johnlock/pseuds/Strange_johnlock
Summary: The boys are betting on who can find the most horrendous Christmas jumper. But even the ugliest clothes look good on the floor.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 20
Kudos: 106
Collections: Sherlock Xmas 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Kat, for beta reading
> 
> And thank you, Johnlock2708, for writing this with me

John stood in front of his closet and examined his reflection in the head-high mirror at the front. With a wry smile, he straightened his new jumper. Just the right thing for NSY’s Christmas party. A really ugly, green jumper with a large reindeer and a penguin in the middle and small hearts and little bells embroidered around them. 

A week earlier, John had found this absolute horror in a store a little apart from the other Christmas clothes, and bought it immediately for the motto that was scheduled for the party: Ugly Christmas clothes. Everyone should wear at least one piece of ugly Christmas clothing. 

John would be comfortable at the party, immerse himself in the crowd, and have a good time with some of them. And he was looking forward to the choice of Greg and Molly’s Christmas attire. 

Maybe Sherlock would go with him. Certainly not in an ugly Christmas jumper, but maybe he would condescend to accept John’s invitation and go to that party with him. John had tried to convince Sherlock by promising to listen when he would deduce all the cheeky things that concerned the colleagues at the Yard. 

With one last appraising look in the mirror, John turned towards the stairs and made his way into the kitchen to have a last cup of tea before they had to make their way to the party.

### ******

Sherlock knew very well when he was being manipulated, not that John was being very clever with it.. On the other hand, bets with John were always fun and Sherlock couldn’t deny being intrigued by the idea of winning a bet against him. He had always been ambiguous, and with not many cases on, Sherlock had spent the past few days getting ready.

It wasn’t too difficult finding horrendous Christmas jumpers online, especially for a person with just a bit of a sense for fashion. He had been tempted to buy at least eight of them, had already designed a spreadsheet to do a series of experiments on strangers - gauge their reactions on the audacity of the jumpers.

Then, he had found the one jumper that went beyond any sense of taste and the experiment was forgotten. Sherlock had ordered it immediately and it had arrived two days before the Christmas party at the Yard.

With a double murder at Embankment Underground Station, there had been no time to try it on or to even unpack it and so, one hour before they were supposed to show up at Scotland Yard, Sherlock pulled it out of the packaging.

“Well, that is ridiculous,” he said to himself, tracing the pattern with a finger for a moment, before pulling it over his head. The fabric felt horribly scratchy and Sherlock put on a vest to not have to deal with that. Then, only wearing boxer shorts, Sherlock pulled the jumper over his head.

“Horrendous.” He pulled a grimace, which slowly turned into a smile. “It’s perfect. You don’t stand a chance, Watson.”

Going through his wardrobe, he chose a pair of black jeans - he wasn’t going to waste any of his suit trousers for this - and finished dressing, just in time to hear John’s footsteps on the stairs. Time to check out his opponent, before the reaction of the Yarders would decide the ultimate winner.

Ruffling his hair one more time, Sherlock stepped out of his bedroom and into the kitchen, where John was just preparing two mugs of tea. 

******

“Tea?” John asked without looking up from his preparations.

“Yes, thank you, John,” Sherlock smirked and stood straight in the entrance to the kitchen so that John couldn't miss what a hideousness Sherlock was wearing when he finally looked up from making the tea.

“Whoah…!” John exclaimed with a startled look “What the hell are you wearing, Sherlock? I thought you wouldn't…” with an audible click of his teeth, he closed his mouth and just stared. 

“You see but you don't observe, John. I'm wearing the ugliest jumper the Yard has ever seen and I'll win the bet.” Sherlock smirked, puffing out his chest so John could see even better what was embroidered on his jumper. 

“But it's… there are… COCKS on your jumper! Ridiculous looking cocks with Santa hats!” John gestured somewhat helplessly in the direction of the said jumper. 

“Exactly.” 

“I really didn't see that coming,” John laughed, his eyes sparkling with joy about this successful surprise “Especially not from you, Sherlock.” 

It was ridiculous. Sherlock, who only ever wore the most elegant clothes, now was dressed in this horrendous jumper and looking smug about it. The giggle burst from John’s throat, and he found himself unable to stop. Sherlock was giggling too now, his grey eyes filled with the spark of amusement and John had to hold onto the kitchen counter for balance, stomach aching from laughter. He imagined who would usually wear a jumper like this, people in their teens and early twenties, as they went out on the weekends, hoping to find someone to hook up with, not wanting to go home alone. 

But what if…? What if Sherlock...?

Still giggling, he turned back to the tea, but then looked up again, nodding at the jumper and asked: “Do you, though?” 

[The Jumper](https://www.etsy.com/de/listing/732115932/hassliche-weihnachten-pullover-frauen)   
  


******

“Do you, though?“ The question echoed through Sherlock’s brain, thoughts chasing each other. 

_Do you - want cock for Christmas?_

Not a reaction he would have expected wearing this jumper. The laughter, yes, that’s what Sherlock had aimed for, blue eyes sparkling with it, mouth curled into a broad smile, John tilting his head back a bit as he giggled. But now, from one moment to the other, that had stopped, a little frown tugging at the lines on John’s forehead and around his mouth until his lips had given way to that question. 

Those three short words that now seemed to be a threshold, and if Sherlock stepped through it, their friendship might be changed. Three words, that could mean three entirely different things. 

First – and if it weren’t for the look on John’s face, Sherlock wouldn’t have even considered the other options - John might be taking the piss. A jumper like this just seemed an invitation to an entire variety of jokes, a risk Sherlock had calculated when choosing the jumper. 

Secondly, John could have just come onto him. He was a flirt, John, and a good one at that, his charm coming as natural to him as deductions to Sherlock. But Sherlock would have expected a raised eyebrow or a lick of his lip.

Instead, something dark hovered over his features, tainting the cheekiness of the words. And finally, Sherlock understood. John Watson was jealous - jealous of anyone at the NSY party that might see the jumper as an invitation. Ridiculous. No one at the Yard would ever do that - they all hated him. And even if they didn’t, Sherlock wasn’t interested in a hook-up with any of them. But stupid, perfect, idiotic John Watson didn’t observe.

“Only if it’s yours,” Sherlock said, eyes flickering up to John’s. He wanted to sound flirty, maybe even wink - John liked the winking, instead, his answer escaped with a breath. No hiding behind false confidence, but laying bare what he felt – what he needed. 

Stepping through the threshold, breaking through the wall. No way back now. 

His answer did something to John’s face the detective couldn’t quite explain, no matter how hard he tried to take in every shift in his features, translating every thought into movement. Always expressive, his John. And then, after a brief moment of hesitance, in a surge of movement, John connected their lips in a desperate kiss. 


	2. Chapter 2

“You…?” John said, stupidly glaring at him, shifting his weight. John's mind raced. Had Sherlock actually just answered that? Was it John just imagining it or was it real? Could it really be that simple? There was only one way to find out. John stepped forward and kissed him, unable to hold back any longer.

At first, the kiss was uncoordinated and wet,  the urgent rush of feeling made John tie one hand in Sherlock's hair to hold him tight. There wouldn't be another chance like that, he had to convince Sherlock that it was the right, the only, thing to do. 

“I wanted you for so long,” John managed to breathe out between more kisses “So long.” As he squeezed Sherlock’s butt with his other hand, John's tongue twisted into Sherlock's mouth, searching for more contact and Sherlock let out a happy sigh. Finally. Finally, it had happened, what he had been imagining for such a long time, but had never dared to hope for. 

Unsure what to do with his hands, Sherlock put them on John's hips to let John take the lead. John let out an approving growl and gently pushed Sherlock backwards towards his bedroom. 

“You really want this, right? ...Us?” John asked and began to stroke his hands over Sherlock’s jumper covered chest and sides as they continued slowly toward Sherlock's bedroom

“Yes, I want .. uh… you,” came a briefly interrupted answer as Sherlock accidentally bumped his shoulder on the doorframe. 

Laughing and giggling, they stumbled through the door and fell onto the large, comfortable bed with the expensive sheets.

******

  
  


John’s weight felt perfect on top of him, as they shared wet, greedy kisses and Sherlock had to curl his fingers into the fabric of John’s jumper to have something to hold onto. He felt dizzy, as one kiss bled into the next, leaving barely any room to breathe – they had years of kissing to catch up on.

Sherlock didn’t want to think about that - about opportunities missed, about ‘ _ married to my work’ _ , but then he did, his brain assaulted him with memories - moments together. Quiet nights, mornings drinking tea without saying much, coming home fuelled still with adrenaline after a case. They all could have ended differently if either of them had been brave enough.

As their mouths part for a breath, Sherlock came back from his memories and filled the narrow space between them with a small giggle.

“What’s so funny?” John grinned, leaving a trail of kisses against Sherlock’s jaw and neck, and instead of answering, Sherlock tilts his head back to give him more room.

“What,” a kiss to his Adam’s apple, “is,” brushing his nose against his jawline, “so funny.”

Sherlock gasped, as John nipped at his earlobe.

“This,” Sherlock moved his hand between them, “This ridiculous jumper finally getting us here.” John’s face went soft above his and the kiss he pressed to Sherlock’s mouth was softer than the ones before.

“Finally.” He echoed, face blurring as he rested his forehead against the detectives. They stayed like this for a moment. Lost in their own heads, before Sherlock, growing impatient, combed his fingers through John’s short hair to pull him up and into a kiss again.

John obeyed, and by god, could the man kiss. Sherlock found himself breathless within seconds, cupping his partner's face in his hands, pulling him closer, flush against his body, gasping when that made his erection (when had that happened?) brush against John’s thigh. Unable to control himself, he repeated the movement, rocking up, the touch barely enough to feed the hunger that teasing touches and searing kisses had created.

“God, Sherlock.” John breathed, reaching down between them to cup Sherlock through his trousers. “Those jeans are too tight on you anyway.” He moved, sitting up a bit and Sherlock scowled at the loss of contact.

“Impatient.” John grinned, as he flipped open one button after the other until he could finally pull Sherlock’s trousers down, the relief of pressure making Sherlock gasp and reach out for his partner, who was currently struggling to get them over his feet. And that should have not been sexy at all, but somehow it was - John sitting there on Sherlock’s bed, his erection very prominent through the fabric of his own jeans, tongue tucked between his teeth at the side, as he pulled Sherlock’s large feet through the rather tight opening.

“Ha,” he said, successfully having freed one leg before he started at the other. Sherlock needed to kiss him again, no moment wasted, and so, sitting up, he started tugging his jumper up - John was taking too long with the trousers already. More naked skin sooner meant he could kiss him again, sooner. John was over him in an instant, sealing their mouths in a forceful kiss, pulling Sherlock’s hands away from the jumper. 

“Nope. You’re not taking this off,” he rumbled, sending sparks down Sherlock’s spine. “I’m fucking you just like this, in this horrendous jumper of yours.” 

******

  
  


Carefully manhandling Sherlock to lay back, John hovered over him and kissed him thoroughly . 

“I want you, Sherlock.” John whispered “I want to take you, here and now. You’re so beautiful, so good for me.” With these words John smoothed the jumper and let his hand wander towards Sherlock’s groin, cupping him through his pants. 

Sherlock leaned back and let John have his way. It felt so good. A whimper escaped him as John ran his hand over his cock again. 

“Yes, please John,” he begged, clawing his fists into the sheet. 

John pushed the jumper up a little, exposing Sherlock's flat belly and kissed his way down to the hem of the pants. Sherlock smelled so good, his skin tasted slightly salty from sweat and smelled faintly of the expensive shower gel he had used hours before. 

A rumble escaped John as he tucked his thumbs under the hem and looked Sherlock deep in the eyes. “You want this, do you?” John asked again to be sure. “You’ve done this before?” 

“Once while I was still in college,” Sherlock mumbled, not wanting to talk about previous experiences “It was tedious.” 

“Tedious?” John's eyebrows came up almost to the hairline “Oh Sherlock, I don't know who you were dealing with back then, but I promise you won't get bored with me. I'll show you what I can do to bring you pleasure.” And with that, he slowly pulled Sherlock’s pants down over his slender cock. John let his gaze slide over it in admiration, trying to memorize all the details, from the veins to the red glans that almost screamed to be touched with the tongue. He couldn’t resist and nuzzled his nose into the base of Sherlock’s cock and took a deep breath. “Hhhmmm.” 

John quickly pulled the pants all the way down and nibbled his way back up along Sherlock's leg. This was accompanied by steadily louder noises from Sherlock, which John had not known Sherlock was able to make. At the top, he licked a wide strip from the base to the tip of Sherlock's cock. Sherlock instinctively grabbed John's hair and groaned loudly. “Jooohhn!” 

“Yes, love?” 

“I need you. Now!” 

“You’re sure? I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret later.” 

“Jooohnn!” 

“Okay okay,” John laughed “I see what I can do, but I'm afraid we don't have everything we need. Condoms, lube…” he trailed off. 

“Bedside drawer.” came the somewhat vague-sounding answer. 

John shifted to the bedside table and opened the drawer. To his astonishment, there wasn't one tube of lube inside, but at least seven different ones. “What the…” 

“Experiment,” Sherlock answered, getting impatient. 

“You ...You're telling me you needed seven different types of lube for an experiment? What for… no, wait, I don’t want to know right now.” With that, John grabbed one of the bottles and tossed it on the bed. Then he grabbed a foil-wrapped condom and carefully placed it on the bedside table. 

Thoroughly, John coated his fingers with lube and carefully stroked from Sherlock's balls to the perineum. 

“‘s this okay?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Sherlock sighed and let his legs fall apart. John took his chance and let his fingers wander further back to the still tightly puckered flesh. With dexterous fingers, he carefully stroked Sherlock's hole and kissed the inside of his thigh. “You are doing so well, take a deep breath for me.” 

As Sherlock began to inhale, John broke the tight ring of muscles with his index finger and let it slide inside. 

At first, overwhelmed from the new feeling, Sherlock groaned and pushed himself back into the mattress. John rubbed one hand over Sherlock's belly, "Sshhh, I can stop if you want, we don't have to do it.” 

“No, no, I want it. Please, John.” Sherlock begged. 

“Okay, love, relax for me.” John continued to stroke Sherlock's belly and legs reassuringly. 

After a few seconds, Sherlock began to relax noticeably. “Yeah...I’ve got you,” assured John, sliding his finger inside Sherlock to find the right spot until Sherlock cried out. “Yeah… Here we go.” John smiled and stroked the spot again.

Sherlock released his hands from the sheet he had been holding tightly the whole time and pressed his arms against the head of the bed to push towards John's fingers. 

“John, I… uh… need … gggnnnhh….I want…” 

Even without coherent words, John understood and slowly pushed another finger into Sherlock, moving carefully but determined. 

After a few more minutes, two fingers became three and Sherlock was relaxed enough to fully enjoy John's ministrations. “John, I want you, I need you!” Sherlock exclaimed, sweaty and panting. 

“As you wish,” John answered with a proud smile and withdrew his fingers, wiping them on the bedding. He fished the condom off the bedside table, tore open the packaging and pulled it over his neglected cock. 

“You’re amazing, Sherlock,” John praised and lined up after spreading a generous amount of lube over the condom. 

John grabbed Sherlock's hand, interlaced their fingers and looked Sherlock straight in the eyes “Ready?” 

“Yes, John.” Sherlock answered and John pushed slowly inside. 

******

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, as his body adjusted to the feeling of John inside him, stretching him out, filling him warm and firm. It was a strange sensation, to be stretched around John’s girth, but incredibly arousing at the same time.

The doctor was pressing kisses to his jaw, sucking at the tender skin of his neck and although Sherlock knew it was to distract him from the initial burnt, he couldn’t help to enjoy every brief touch, every gush of warm breath.

“God, you feel so good,” John whispered, lips resting against his ear. “Are you okay?” 

Sherlock turned his head to drag his mouth against John’s cheek, tasting the skin, feeding his addiction.

“Yes. Yes, John.” He whispered. “Your preparation was… oh… thorough and I have adjusted to the feeling of your erected penis in my… body.”

“Good. That’s good,” John lifted his head to look down at him, arousal making his eyes darker and bluer at the same time, a stark contrast to his golden skin. “I’m going to move, now, okay? We can stop anytime…” 

“No,” Sherlock interrupted. “No, John. I need you.” A possessive, almost animalistic sound left the doctor’s throat and Sherlock was deeply kissed, his hands finding a way into John’s hair to pull him even closer until teeth clicked, lips almost hurting with the force of their desire.

And then John moved – John rocking his hip forward just once and Sherlock’s legs moved to wrap around him on their own volition, wanting to meet every new thrust.

“Hmm, god you like this, don’t you?” John dragged his lips against Sherlock’s jaw and it wasn’t really a question. John knew what he was doing, as confident as a lover as he was with a gun. Skilled. Precise. Intense.

He moved quicker now, weight shifted to rest on his elbows, which were pressed into the mattress just next to Sherlock’s head.

Nuzzling against his ear, John said in a firm voice “You take me so well, love.” 

Endearments. Somehow, they were not ridiculous from John’s mouth, instead adding to the arousal deep inside Sherlock’s belly. 

“Still tedious?” John nipped at his earlobe.

“Well…” Sherlock couldn’t resist to tease him, the rest of his comment dying on his lips as John’s fingers curled into his hair, pulling. 

Sparks of lust bolted down his spine, making his skin burst into goosebumps and his hips rock involuntarily. 

“Sherlock Holmes,” A kiss to his chest through the fabric of his jumper. “You might be a genius out there. Most clever man in the world. But here,” Sucking at his neck. “You are mine.”

Sherlock’s cock (and how had he almost forgotten about it, when it was so very essential to this process?) twitched where it rested against the detective’s belly, precum pooling on his skin already.

“Yours,” He whispered. “John, please.” 

“You really need cock, don’t you?” John teased, kissing the detective’s mouth, softer this time, a contrast to his words.

“Yes. Need your cock, please,” Sherlock mewled, not caring anymore. He was safe here, in John’s arms, surrounded by his smell and taste, his warmth. Here, he could let go, ask for what he wanted and needed. He could place himself into the capable hands of John Watson and trust to be taken care of. Minutes bled into the next, as John moved within him, alternating slow, deep thrusts with rapid ones, never predictable, a constant source of surprise, of bafflement and Sherlock felt he was melting under him, into a heap of liquid desire. 

Kissing him again, John let a warm hand travel along Sherlock’s thigh, leaving the skin tingling, until he pulled Sherlock’s leg to rest on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his calve.

The shift in position changed the angle of John’s thrusts, allowed John deeper inside his body and…

“Oh,” Sherlock’s mouth pulled into a perfect ‘O’ as the tip of John’s cock brushed against his prostate, making his body sing with pleasure. 

“Knew you’d like that,” John said smugly, leaning forward a bit to kiss him again, a hand scooting under the hem of his jumper to tease a nipple. All those sensations accumulating into a heat that was almost too much to bear.

“John,” He moaned, fingers finding the sheet to cling to as John fucked him into the mattress. “John.” No other word mattered, now, nothing but his John and their shared pleasure.

Orgasm took him by surprise - erupting from deep within his body, and Sherlock threw his head back, John’s name on his lips, pulling him deeper, needing to feel him as he came.

Everything was a blur of movement and sound, as John pushed into him a few more times, words of praise on his lips. And then they were kissing – mouths barely able to do more than brush against each other as they tried to catch their breaths. 

“I really needed this.” Sherlock smiled, after a moment, unable to open his eyes quite yet. He felt John smile against his lips. 

“Hmm, we both did.” He carefully sat up, making Sherlock groan in frustration as he pulled out and discarded the condom, and the detective reached out to pull him flush against his chest again, needing him close. 

Exhausted, fully content, Sherlock felt sleep overtake him. 


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock was sure he looked a right mess, hair ruffled, jumper pushed up, pale belly covered in his own, dried cum, and he found he didn’t care a bit, as he brushed his nose against John’s naked shoulder. They had napped for a while, after, Sherlock finding that sleeping next to John was somehow better than doing it alone, and had woken up just a while ago, still wrapped up around each other 

“Can I take it off, now?” He hummed, opening his eyes slowly, pressing a kiss to John’s skin.

“Well, you do look utterly dashing in it.” John grinned, wrapping his arms closer around the detective.

Sherlock bit the spot he had just kissed, then moved to straddle John’s hips. Looking down into blue eyes and at a smiling face, Sherlock provocatively pulled the jumper off. Wanting to throw it away as far as possible, it got stuck on the doorknob

“Alright, even better without,” John conceded, his warm hands travelling over the other man’s belly and chest, thumb brushing a nipple and that flame Sherlock thought had been put out, rekindles deep in his stomach. “You are gorgeous. God, Sherlock.” John continued touching him, exploring the skin he didn’t previously have access too.

As they shared kisses, Sherlock reached down to wrap his hand around John’s cock, and although they had just shared spectacular orgasms not an hour ago, it began growing under his fingers, filling with blood, pulsing against Sherlock’s palm, making the detective’s mouth water.

As Sherlock looks up, he spots the jumper, his eyes fixed on it for a moment.

_ Cocks with Santa hats _ , he thought,  _ Ridiculous. _

And then a thought occurred, making him jump off the bed, leaving a confused and very aroused John behind.

“Sher..?”

“One moment, John.” He opened the door, hurrying into the living room, where Mrs. Hudson had placed some Christmas decorations. Plucking the hat off a weird little elf statue, Sherlock returned to the bedroom.

John, his perfect John, was still sprawled on the mattress, a hand wrapped around himself. Sherlock got back onto the bed, crawling over him to kiss the questioning expression off his face before he sat on his heels.

Grinning, he placed the hat on the crown of John’s cock, before kissing down the shaft.

"Merry Christmas to me" he smirked 

John burst into giggles. 


	4. Chapter 4

A few days later John met Greg for a pint.  Greg was already sitting at a table a little apart from the others in a corner, waiting for John.

“Hi John, how are you?” Greg greeted with a smirk, “Where were you last Saturday? You made me wait at the party, I made my bet on you and your  _ good _ taste in clothes!” 

“Erm... Hi Greg, yeah sorry for that.” John answered and slipped onto the bench across from Greg's seat “Something happened and I got ... distracted.” Blushing furiously John looked down and kneaded his hands. But then he took a deep breath, raised his head and smiled slyly. 

“You can't imagine what happened, Greg!”

“What happened?” answered Greg, looked inquiringly at John and frowned slightly irritated when he saw how happy John looked. “You’ve got joy seeping out of every pore, did you pick up a date spontaneously? Do I know her?” A knowing smile appeared on Greg's face. 

“Him…”

“What?”

“Him. Yes, you know him.” 

“Him…?” Greg repeated dumbfounded “You met him and I know who he is?” 

“Yes… it’s… Sherlock.” 

A moment passed without a reaction. Greg looked a little dazed and John feared that he had  _ broken _ him with this information when suddenly a broad grin spread across Greg’s face. 

“That's wonderful! Finally! I can hardly believe it. I'm so happy for you - and of course for Sherlock too. You finally did it, pulled your heads out of your asses and did the right thing!” Greg laughed. 

“Um… yeah” John smiled “It’s a bit overwhelming actually but it’s good… really good.” 

“I can imagine that.” Greg replied with a wink “And you know what? I forgive you for keeping me waiting on Saturday as you just helped me win another bet.”

“Have I…?”

“Yes. I just won the pot from the Yard on the bet on when you two will finally get together!” Greg announced happily “ To celebrate the day, the first beer is on me.” And with that, Greg got up to go to the bar and get the first round. 

Meanwhile, John sat and looked around, a little lost in thought. Everything looked as it always did, and yet new and different. Perhaps lighter, happier, as if someone had taken a veil off everything and let the colours become clearer. 

John listened quietly to himself. Yes, he was satisfied, simply satisfied and happy. This was the beginning of something great. The beginning of something great with him and Sherlock as a couple. 

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas ❤️
> 
> Ps: The little friend with the candy cane is my favourite 😉


End file.
